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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22435843">something i can breathe in</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelocaldreamer/pseuds/littlelocaldreamer'>littlelocaldreamer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2019-2020 NHL Season, Chicago Blackhawks, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Strained Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:40:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22435843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelocaldreamer/pseuds/littlelocaldreamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He never put his heart into sex the way he put it into hockey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>something i can breathe in</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from "homesick" by dua lipa</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’ve been at this for hours.</p><p>Patrick can’t catch his breath, gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles bloom white. </p><p>There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he rides Jonny nice and slow—easing his hips back and forth on his thick cock. </p><p>“Jonny,” he whines, voice cracking, “you feel—so good—“</p><p>Jonny lurches up, wrapping strong arms around Patrick’s back to keep him balanced. “Fuck—you’re driving me crazy—“</p><p>Patrick bites his pretty pink lip, burying his face in the soothing warm heat coming off of Jonny’s skin. He doesn’t stop moving his hips, too close—so close—</p><p>“Baby,” Jonny gently admonishes, tightening his grip, “slow down—“</p><p>“Can’t,” Patrick pants, throwing his head back with a deep, throaty groan.</p><p>Jonny’s nails dig in his thighs, nearly cutting the velvety soft skin. </p><p>Patrick whimpers, dropping his head full of sweaty curls down onto Jonny’s flushed hot chest. His heart is racing so fast it pounds at the bottom of his throat. He can’t focus on anything except the sound of his breathing, loud and choppy in the quiet stillness of their bedroom. </p><p>“It’s okay Peeks, it’s okay,” Jonny murmurs gently, wrapping him up in the safest, tightest hug. </p><p>Jonny is so big inside him, his cock smearing against Patrick’s insides in the most delicious touch of friction. Patrick needs more though, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough—</p><p>“Ease up baby,” Jonny quietly instructs, bringing his big hands around his back, cupping his cheeks in each palm. “It’s not a race. Just breathe.”</p><p>Patrick tries and fails. </p><p>Focuses—and tries again.</p><p>Right. So maybe Patrick gets overwhelmed during sex sometimes. </p><p>It’s been a massive week for his career, hitting 1,000, being recognized by the league and Jonny, their team—the entirety of Chicago. It’s all a little staggering. </p><p>It’s been so good. But tonight was bad. </p><p>He’s exhausted from having to keep up appearances with his family and Amanda. Everytime he does something of his own stature his organization has to make it about the people in his life who matter least to him in this moment. </p><p>When he gets like this—carnal desire spilling over in pure, primal desperation, it’s terrifying to an extent. Patrick feels completely out of control, emotions strung so tight he can’t process them mentally—only physically. </p><p>That’s where Jonny steps in. </p><p>It’s not that Patrick can’t go at it as hard as he wants—he can fuck or ride Jonny’s body to near point-break—but it has to be coming from a place of comfort and security. Not fear. </p><p>Never fear. </p><p>Jonny can always tell the difference without Patrick saying a word. </p><p>Patrick loves him so much. </p><p>“I’m not going anywhere Peeks,” Jonny promises, quiet and serious as he flips their positions, maneuvering Patrick’s body safely under his. </p><p>Patrick looks up, ice blue pupils dilated from arousal, and gives the barest hint of a nod. His eyes shine in the low lamp light coming from the corner of the room. They’re home in Chicago, finally granted a couple of days of rest before Patrick has to leave for St. Louis. </p><p>“I love you,” Patrick breathes, so tender and quiet. </p><p>Jonny leans down and kisses him as he pushes back in, swallowing the whimper Patrick lets out as he does so. “I love you more.”</p><p>Jonny’s mom used to tell him that all the time growing up, smile so dear and pleased it would make him blush. </p><p>
  <em> Jonny laughs, insisting, “That’s not true!”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>”But it is,” Andrèe replies, “someday you’ll understand. When you love someone so much you can’t imagine life without them. You’ll love them more than they could ever love you.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny, ever the skeptic, asks, “But what if they don’t believe me?”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>His mother opens her arms for an embrace, fingers curling around his brown locks as she tells him, very serious, “Then it’s your job to convince them.” </em>
</p><p>
 Jonny leans down, biceps bulging on either side of Patrick’s head as he grinds in so deep Patrick loses his breath for a second. 
</p><p>
 “Ah—Jonny—“
</p><p>
 Patrick turns his head away, a stray heated tear leaking from his eye. 
</p><p>
 “Baby look at me,” Jonny whispers, kissing his forehead, “don’t hide.”
</p><p>
 There’s something about the sound of his voice. So utterly calming. Patrick glances up, eyes snapping back into sharp focus. He can feel himself regaining control, coming down to earth. 
</p><p>
 To Jonny. 
</p><p>
 “I’m here.”
</p><p>
 Jonny kisses him, wet and slick and painfully eager to convey how fucking sure of <em>them</em> he is. “Welcome back.”
</p><p>
He moves a hand down and Patrick takes it in his own, slicking it up with lube. He shivers when their warm, wet palms close around his flushed red cock together, arching his hips into the delicious friction.
</p><p>
 “That’s it baby, fuck into it—“ Jonny’s peppering pecks all over his face, smiling so gently in between. Patrick feels like the vice around his heart is finally beginning to loosen, being replaced with the warmest glow. 
</p><p>
He keeps his eyes open as he looks up at Jonny, gaze being returned with a fierce adoration.
</p><p>
 “Patrick,” he breathes out, affectionate.
</p><p>
 Patrick never knew how beautiful his name could sound until he fell in love.
</p><p>
 Before he and Jonny got together, before he even allowed himself to <em>want</em> Jonny in that way—he never thought he would have sex like this. 
</p><p>
For years, his only experience with intimacy was to get wasted, pick up, fuck, leave the following morning. Or get left. It didn’t really matter. 
</p><p>
 He never put his heart into sex the way he put it into hockey because no one ever seemed worth it. No one could quite hold his attention, either.
</p><p>
 Not like Jonny. 
</p><p>
 But he didn’t fall for Jonny right away. It wasn’t even one particular night that changed their trajectory. It took years. 
</p><p>
 Late night television sessions where they fell asleep tangled together, a random foot or shoulder rub after a significantly brutal loss, little gifts over birthdays that weren’t just things—but thoughtful experiences. Like the one year Jonny had pizza flown in from his favorite hometown place back in Buffalo and they split it together by the fire place late at night in the lobby of whatever hotel they’d been at—not a glass of alcohol anywhere in sight. 
</p><p>
 And that’s really what probably did it for Patrick in the end. The fact that he never had to use booze or coke or molly to escape reality when he was with Jonny. <em>Jonny</em> was—is—the ultimate high.
</p><p>
 “Fuck me, please—fuck me,” he begs, desperate again to come, trying so hard not to burst out and actually say, <em>Don’t leave me</em>. 
</p><p>
 Jonny brushes his lips along Patrick’s temple, his absolute favorite part of his skin. It’s right where Patrick’s height stops on Jonny. One of Jonny’s main ways to show care is to sneak quick, little sips of kisses in that spot when no one’s looking. 
</p><p>
 It used to annoy Patrick, in the beginning. Made him feel tiny and small. A constant reminder of how much bigger Jonny is than him. 
</p><p>
    <em>”I don’t see it that way,” Jonny says, confused, “I don’t see you as smaller than me, Peeks. You know that, right?”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick glares at him from across the kitchen island, smoothie ingredients scattered. “Really,” he replies with a flat tone. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny sighs, coming around to where he is. “I mean—yes. Obviously, we differ in size. But like...this isn’t a power stance thing. Or whatever. I just like to kiss you. If you want me to do it somewhere else, or not at all, I can respect that.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>He looks so dumb and bummed out Patrick rolls his eyes, has to hold his arms open for him to step into. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>Automatically, Jonny’s lips go to his soft, smooth temple. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>He presses words to Patrick’s skin, “I know how much you’ve had to overcome, proving everyone wrong. But I’ve always seen us on the same level, okay? As equals.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick closes his eyes against a threatening wave of tears and doesn’t say anything. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny continues, “You’re the best hockey player I’ve ever known—that will never change. Your size has nothing to do with how you measure up.” </em>
</p><p>
 Jonny looms over him now, thrusts veering into a consistent pounding landing directly on Patrick’s prostate. He curls his toes in their ridiculously expensive sheets, arches his back once more—
</p><p>
 Jonny gasps when Patrick squeezes down on him, dropping his body so his sweaty slicked chest molds itself to Patrick’s. “Baby, fuck, like that—“
</p><p>
 Patrick kisses his mouth and licks at his lips, wrapping his arms around his neck as he comes without warning between their bodies.
</p><p>
 Jonny thoroughly jerks him through it, biting down on the base of his neck so hard Patrick cries out like he’s wounded. 
</p><p>
He feels the wetness spread within the tight cavern of his body as Jonny empties himself into him only moments later, shivering with how dirty it always makes him feel. 
</p><p>
“Yeah babe please,” Patrick urges, kissing all along his flushed hairline, “come inside me.”
</p><p>
 Jonny sucks harder at his neck, weakly thrusting still.
</p><p>
 From his position Patrick can’t see Jonny’s gorgeous, massive ass at all—which is a crying shame. But he closes his eyes as he comes down, imagining how it must look fucking the last of Jonny’s cream into him. 
</p><p>
 His sensitive cock gives one last weak twitch at the thought and it makes Patrick smile. He closes his eyes as Jonny lifts his head, bringing their mouths together in a kiss so gentle Patrick feels wholly taken care of. 
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny holds his hand, neither of them saying anything, taking a few minutes to process the situation as a whole. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick gets why they have to hide, it was their idea in the first place. But now that they have contracts, and “girlfriends”—it feels weird. Wrong. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>Hockey has to come first, though. They both agree that sacrifices have to made in the name of the sport. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny squeezes his hand and Patrick looks over at him, trying so hard to keep it together in the face of all this uncertainty.</em>
</p><p>
    <em>“It’s going to be okay,” Jonny says, bringing his other hand up to his face, “it won’t always be like this.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick’s shoulders sag. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. What if—I’m not—“</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny doesn’t let him finish, sliding off the couch and in between his legs on the floor. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>“Don’t you dare say it, Patrick. Don’t you dare say you’re not enough.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick looks away, biting down hard on his wobbly bottom lip.</em>
</p><p>
    <em>“Look at me,” Jonny pleads, bringing his hands to cup Patrick’s knees. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick looks, hating how vulnerable he feels. But he fights it. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>For Jonny, he fights it. </em>
</p><p>
    <em>“I spent too long trying to catch you to ever lose you, okay? You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. We will get through this. I know it.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick lets out a watery sigh, can’t help but ask, “Even greater than hockey?”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny does his famous half smile, half smirk, fondly rolling his eyes as he answers, “Even greater than hockey.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Patrick grins, tongue pressing up against the ever-growing gap in his teeth as he shakes his head. “I really love you.”</em>
</p><p>
    <em>Jonny tilts his head, eyes filling with something soft Patrick can’t quite place yet.
  </em>
</p><p>
    <em>“Peeks, I love you more.” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i try to do a raunchy little snippet of their life and ALWAYS, ALWAYS the emotions get away from me. i'm crazy into this pair. i can't help it. </p><p>tumblr: littlelocaldreamer88 (please come and chat with me!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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